


Ghosting

by Callie_Girl



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death, Sympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, ghost au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie_Girl/pseuds/Callie_Girl
Summary: Patton died on the lawnVirgil died in the woodsLogan died on the first floorRoman and Remus died on the fourth floorDeceit died in the basement.For as long as anyone could remember, there's been an abandoned insane asylum just outside the edge of town, nestled deep in the woods. No one ever goes near it, not even urbex explorers or vandals. It's even rumoured to have its own demon.Thomas Sanders has just moved in-And boy is he in for a shock.
Comments: 117
Kudos: 522





	1. 1

_The man in the window narrowed his eyes as a red car pulled into the long driveway, towing some kind of storage trailer thing. After a moment, a man stepped out of it, staring at the looming, mansion-like building in front of him. For some absurd reason, he smiled._

_A thrill-seeker, perhaps?_

_He didn't have any time to further analyze the situation, disappearing just a moment before the strange man's eyes hit the dusty window where he was._

_He had to tell the others. Now._

* * *

Thomas Sanders could've sworn he'd seen a figure in the window on the second floor. When it didn't reappear after a few minutes, he shrugged and grabbed his new keys and went up to the door. It took a few tries and a well-placed kick to get the door open, and his effort was rewarded by a rush of ancient, dusty air so fast it almost knocked him down the stairs.

The lights flickered when he flipped the switch, so he made a note to ask Terrence to check out the electrical stuff. He took a long look around the fancy parlour he'd entered, full of ancient furniture and with a cobwebbed chandelier hanging from the ceiling. After a moment, he wrestled one of the windows open, letting in a draft of fresh air before moving on. The first floor yielded the parlour, a kitchen -with no food in it, thank God- and a large warden's office with an ancient typewriter, but otherwise nothing.

The moment he got to the second floor, he was hit with an intense sense that he was being watched. It was enough to make him hesitate at the top of the creaky, steep stairs, and didn't dissipate.

"Hello?"

A floorboard creaked, and there was a whisper of clothes sweeping against the dusty wooden floor, so faint it was barely there. Then, nothing.

Heart racing, he called out again, "Hello? Who's there?"

The feeling left slowly in the following moments of absolute silence, and he shoved his uneasiness to the back of his mind and went through the rooms. They were all alike, each containing a bed with blankets faded from endless summers, a writing desk and chair, and a bookshelf that was fixed to the wall. A few of the shelves had small trinkets or Knik-knacks, and one room had an ancient pair of glasses collecting dust on the desk.

It was almost like whoever had occupied the rooms had just wandered out on a small stroll, intending to return.

For some reason, Thomas' eyes kept returning to the pair of glasses. Something about them felt like a clue, something that needed to be solved. ALmost on autopilot, he reached out, scrubbed the dust off of them, and slipped them into his jacket pocket. 

Then he continued up the stairs.

The third floor yielded the same results as the second, and on the fourth floor a heavy stone of dread settled into his stomach. He walked through the dark hall as slowly as he could, glancing into each empty room. They were much smaller than the rooms on the other two floors, each with just a bolted-down cot and a barred window, nothing else. There was a bathroom at the end of the hall (there was one on every floor, mercifully clean,) but this one was different from the others. The showers weren't stalls, there was just a line of showerheads, and there were a few toilets against the other.

No privacy on this floor.

He wandered over to the dusty mirror above a large metal sink, absently trancing the metal frame.

Then, he froze.

In the mirror, horror-movie style, there was someone in the corner, shoulders hunched so that he was facing the floor. Thomas' heart pounded so hard it felt like it was trying to break out of his chest. He wanted to turn around so that, just like in horror movies, the apparition would disappear. But he couldn't make himself do it, watching in horror as the man slowly raised his head, revealing bright green eyes surrounded by almost pitch-black circles.

Slowly, the man inched forward, his eyes locked on Thomas. Thomas shivered as the apparition stood right behind him, and he managed to stutter out, "Hello."


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning; in the beginning, Deceit is scary and they have a lot of misconceptions about him. But he IS sympathetic. Also, this chapter explicitly talks about Roman's death, but it's just a throwaway line.

The apparition smiled, revealing sharp, chipped teeth. It leaned closer until its head was just an inch behind Thomas'. Slowly, in a voice that sounded like an axe slowly being sharpened, he hissed out, "Hello~"

His heart was beating so fast it felt like it was trying to break out of his chest and escape. "H-h-h-how are you?"

The smile widened grotesquely. _I'm going to die. It's going to kill me. I am about to get killed by a ghost. Goodbye, cruel world._

"Remus, cease that at once!" A voice like a whip cracked from the doorway, where a young man a few years younger than Thomas stood, wearing a white tunic-like shirt with insanely long sleeves that dragged along the floor.

The apparition- Remus- Stepped away from Thomas and pouted. "But I'm having fun!"

"And he," the new apparition gestured to Thomas, "is clearly not." 

Ghosts. Two ghosts. They were ghosts. That Thomas could see through. And one of them was wearing glasses. What the actual heck-

"I apologize for Remus," the glasses one continued, taking a few steps inside the room, "He has been bored lately. I do hope he didn't frighten you too badly?"

"Uh..." He was talking to a ghost.

"Oh, where are my manners? My name is Logan Fernsby," he held out a covered hand.

"T-Thomas Sanders," Thomas stuttered, shaking Logan's hand. It was cold, like shaking hand with a block of ice.

"And that is Remus Arthur," Logan nodded slightly towards Remus. "I suppose you'll want to meet the others as well?"

Thomas blinked several times. This conversation was going way too quickly for him. "What?"

"The other three," Logan explained patiently, "Roman should be in his room at this hour- Come."

Oh... okay. Off to go meet more ghosts... that lived in his house... ghosts in his house... okay...

* * *

"Roman" was indeed in his room, which was tucked in the corner of the fourth floor. He stared pensively out of his window, not even noticing when Logan led Remus and Thomas in.

"Roman," Logan greeted, startling the man out of his daze. Roman spun to face the intruders, looking deeply offended, but whatever he was about to say died on his lips as he noticed Thomas.

Slowly, jaw hanging open, he pointed at Thomas, then looked between Remus and Logan. "... Real or not real?"

"If you are referring to the live human currently standing behind me and to the right of Remus, real."

Roman and Remus looked extremely similar, Thomas noted. Same bright green eyes, same dark auburn hair, same facial structure, but extremely different demeanour. Where Remus was dark and kind of sinister, Roman carried himself more with the air of a fairytale prince, chin held up regally and posture straight but not stiff.

"I... am Roman Arthur," Roman announced, rising to his feet gracefully, then glaring at Remus, "That idiot next to you is my twin brother."

Oh. "Um... what happened...?" He pointed to the side of his own head, mirroring where Roman's hair was stained with dark blood. Roman touched it gingerly.

"Ah, I slipped in the showers and slammed my head off of that homicidal sink," Something seemed to occur to him, and he looked sharply at Logan. "Did you tell him?"

"Not yet," Logan nodded once. "Virgil would be upset. You know how much he likes to be the one to give the warnings."

Thomas blinked again. "Who's Virgil? What do you mean by warnings?"

Logan made a face. "You'll see. I suspect Virgil and Patton are by the lake. Come."

Before Thomas could demand answers, Remus grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out of the room.

* * *

Logan paused anxiously at the top of the stairs leading down to the first floor, eyes crinkling slightly at the edges. "Thomas, do yourself a favour and either redo these stairs or don't take a tumble down them."

"Um..." Thomas looked down the stairs. They were _really_ steep, and the floor at the bottom was hard. After a moment, Logan started down them, his hand clutching the railing. He released an audible sigh of relief when he reached the bottom, then motioned for the other two to follow him outside.

They followed him to the edge of the woods that surrounded the mansion, next to a dark lake. The scene would've been pretty were the water not as black as ink and the woods weren't an impenetrable fortress of shadow despite the warm sun. Two men sat by the lake, one with his thin legs drawn up to his chest, and the other sprawled in the grass. The smaller man's head shot towards Thomas as they walked over. Thomas felt his stomach lurch; that one couldn't have been older than seventeen.

The other man waved, a wide, warm smile on his face. "Hello!"

"Salutations, Patton," Logan greeted, holding a hand up in what was probably meant as a wave. Patton got to his feet, approaching Thomas with a happy expression. There was something about it, however, that didn't meet his light brown eyes.

"Hello! I'm Patton Burkhardt, the third oldest!" He was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. "And that's Virgil Frauenfeld, the youngest."

Virgil bit his lip and gave a tiny wave, but didn't make any move to approach them.

"So, are you the new owner of the hospital?" Patton asked. "I saw your thingie in the driveway."

Thomas kind of wanted to scream. He was meeting ghosts, talking to ghosts, as if they were completely alive and this was completely normal and he was meeting new neighbours, not the deceased souls of the people who'd died in a _mental hospital_ cheezits heist-

"Hey," Virgil called, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Thomas rambled, "It's just that you're all dead and I'm talking to you and you're ghosts _you are dead_ oh my God-"

Without warning, Remus screeched at the top of his lungs, startling Thomas out of his ramble. Patton gave him a small, slightly startled smile, then turned his attention to Thomas. "We're not going to hurt you, if that's what you're worried about."

"Most of us, anyway," Virgil grumbled, probably thinking his voice was too low for Thomas to hear. Logan shot the younger a look, and Virgil shrugged. "What? He should know?"

"Know what?" Thomas demanded. Those rumours of a demon better not be true. I swear to actual God if there's a demon here-

"Just-" Virgil paused, snapping a few times as he thought. "There's a door behind the tapestry in the warden's office that leads to the basement. Don't go down there." He fixed Thomas with a serious glare, "Stay out of the basement if you value your life and jugular vein."


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas, a certified dumbass, goes into the basement.  
> Last warning, Deceit is really scary.

Thomas awoke to the sound of someone crying.

He laid in bed for a few moments, listening to it and thinking. He'd always sworn he'd never be the person in horror movies who went to investigate the weird noise, but...

Ah, screw it.

As quietly as he could, socked feet making almost no noise, he snuck across the room and into the dark hallway, grabbing a flashlight because the electrical still didn't quite work. He followed the noise down the stairs, through the front room, and into the warden's office.

It was coming from behind the tapestry.

Careful not to disturb the line of salt that made a small semicircle, he pulled back the tapestry to find a heavy metal door. After a few minutes of searching for a key, he found it hidden on top of the doorway. It took several tries and a well-placed kick to make the door open with a shriek.

He tried the lights a few times, but they were permanently burned out, so he activated his flashlight. The stairs creaked tremendously as he descended them, and the crying grew louder, as if the source was crying harder. When he finally reached the cold tile floor, he swept his flashlight across the room, only to stop about halfway.

In the centre of the room was a wooden chair in a permanently reclining position, leather straps hanging off it, ready to tie down another victim. An ancient control board stood a yard away, connected to an empty basin and what looked like headphone, a staple-shaped piece of metal connecting two mouldering sponges.

An electroshock therapy chair.

Thomas stared at it for a few moments. The control board was fried, not from time but as if it had overloaded...

What had happened down here?

He swept the beam of his flashlight across the room, freezing when in landed on the corner.

Someone was huddled in the corner, curled in a tight fetal position with its back to Thomas. Its body was shaking as it sobbed, oblivious to Thomas and the flashlight.

"Um... hello?"

The thing stopped crying abruptly. Slowly, it rose to its feet, still facing the corner.

"Hi... um... my name is Thomas-"

The flashlight was knocked from his hand as the thing lunged at him with a screech, Thomas barely reacting in time to stop its nails from slicing his throat. Its teeth snapped mere inches from his face, and Thomas could only stare at it, terrified.

When Thomas looked into its face, he knew he was looking at something completely and utterly unhinged. Its eyes were unnaturally wide, pupils barely even a pinprick of black. Its jaw hung open and it screamed in a way that could only be described as demonic and oh Jesus Christ-

"Deceit, no!" Virgil got the thing in an impressive flying tackle and someone- Patton- yanked Thomas to his feet and rushed him up the stairs and out of the basement. Virgil followed quickly, taking a protective stance in front of Thomas and growling. The thing stopped at the top of the stairs as if it had hit a wall, shrieking and pounding against it. That went on for a few moments until it realized it couldn't penetrate the salt barrier, after which it gave Thomas a murderous look before flying- literally _flying_ \- back into the shadows.

Virgil let out a deep breath, shoulders relaxing, and Logan checked over Thomas for any injuries.

"I told you... not to go... into the basement," Virgil growled, looking livid.

"What was _that_?!" Thomas demanded, horrified. That thing was in his _house_ -

"Deceit," Logan informed him, watching the doorway nervously. "The demon."

Patton nodded. "He's been here longer than any of us. We don't even know how he died."

"He would have killed you," Virgil snapped, "He's the one who killed Logan, so we keep him locked down there," he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Thomas, you have to promise me you won't go down there. He. Will. Kill. You. And if the salt line gets broken..." The ghosts shared a grim look. "There's no telling what he would do."

"Promise us," Remus ordered, his gaze hard as he watched a shadow move in the doorway.

Thomas shuddered, heart pounding in his chest. "No problem."


	4. 4

Eventually, he started to get used to the presence of the ghosts. Sure, it always unnerved him when Remus walked through a wall or Patton just... floated down through the floor, but he was kind of adjusting. He just had to ask them not to carry stuff around when one of his friends was over. Patton's heart was in the right place when he'd made cookies for Joan, but Joan had been kind of freaked out when they saw a sheet of cookies just floating towards them.

 _That_ had been hard to make up an excuse for.

It was actually pretty nice to have them around. Logan enjoyed reading anything he could get his hands on, which included Thomas' books. Finally, Thomas had someone to talk about his favourite books with, since the fandoms online consisted of about five people and half a block of Ramen.

And Patton, unlike Thomas, loved to cook. As long as Thomas kept the kitchen stocked, Patton loved nothing more than to zoom around the kitchen and prepare meals. And the food he made was really, really good. 

Virgil was like having a pet cat, something Thomas couldn't have because he was allergic. Virgil could normally be found on either a surface that was not meant to be sat on or hanging upside-down from the chandelier. Thomas had recently introduced him to emo and punk music, and he didn't see much of his laptop after that.

Roman and Remus were two gods of chaos. Thomas had nearly been decapitated several times by Roman slashing a fireplace poker around, pretending to fight a dragon who lived in the parlour, and Remus took an absurd amount of joy in sticking his head through a wall, screeching, and flying away.

And anytime Thomas was in the warden's office, Deceit hovered in the doorway, eyes narrowed. Thomas did his best to ignore the demon, but the gaze felt like it was burning holes in his head. He couldn't close the door without reaching past the salt line, and he was willing to bet money that the second he did that Deceit would grab him and drag him into the pitch-black depths.

Strangely, Deceit didn't really look like a demon when he wasn't attacking Thomas. He was actually even younger than Virgil, with jagged brown hair and bloodshot brown eyes. Like Roman, he actually had wounds; each temple bore what looked like a third-degree burn and palms covered in strange scratches and scrapes. Thomas had tried to ask him about them, but Deceit stayed silent, glaring.

Well, he wasn't silent _all_ of the time. Thomas had knocked over or dropped several items when Deceit randomly screeched out of pure spite. 

One day, Thomas noticed Deceit staring at the water bottle he'd bought with him. Deceit pointed at it, waiting for something.

"What? My water?"

Deceit nodded, then pointed at himself.

"Um..." Water bottle, Deceit- "Oh, do you want my water bottle?"

Deceit nodded earnestly.

Thomas debated it for a few seconds; Deceit hadn't exactly been on good behaviour, but he was also completely capable of screeching while Thomas tried to sleep.

"Sure," He tossed the bottle into the basement. Deceit zoomed after it, and Thomas went about his cleaning.

A few minutes later, his cleaning was interrupted by a screech. Deceit was back in the doorway, water bottle n hand and annoyed expression on his face. He mined unscrewing the lid, then threw the bottle back at Thomas.

It hit him in the face.

Freaking melodramatic demon.

Thomas unscrewed the cap and handed it back to Deceit. Deceit nodded once, then flew back into the basement.

Thomas was almost done with the shredding when the plastic bottle struck him in the side of the head.

"Hey!" He glared at Deceit. Deceit glared back, then slunk back into the basement. "Weirdo."

* * *

"Is something bothering you, Thomas?" Logan asked, "I fear for the safety of that plate if you continue scrubbing it so vigorously."

Thomas put the plate down. "It's Deceit."

Logan's head shot up from his book, "Did he attempt to harm you?"

"No, actually, " except for the water bottle, which was more annoying than anything else, "it's the opposite; he hasn't tried anything. Well, he asked me for my water bottle-"

"He _spoke_?!" Logan interrupted, shocked.

"No. It was mostly just like charades." Thomas sighed, drying the last plate, "It's weird. I mean, sure, he's annoying, but he doesn't really seem that homicidal."

"You're kidding me, right?" Virgil demanded, hanging upside-down from the chandelier, "He tried to rip your throat open."

"He killed me," Logan added, though he didn't really seem to care. This was met by several loud thumps from the warden's office, making both present ghosts tense. 

"How did he kill you if he's been trapped in the basement?"

Logan tried to turn a page in his book, struggling slightly with his unreasonable long sleeves. "I was about to go down the stairs when I was pushed from behind, and I broke my neck in the fall. When I died, Deceit was standing at the top of the stairs. After Virgil died and the hospital was no longer used, we decided to seal him into the basement."

The thumps abruptly stopped.

Logan sighed, returning his attention to his book, "Be careful around him, Thomas."

* * *

When Thomas went to the warden's office a few days later, Deceit wasn't in the doorway.

"Deceit?" Thomas peered into the doorway. "Deceit?"

Nothing.

Was this some kind of trick? Was Deceit waiting at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Thomas to come down so he could kill him?

Thomas grabbed his flashlight, kneeling at the top of the stairs and shining the light into the basement. A shiver ran down his spine when he saw the chair, then he spotted Deceit curled up in the corner, completely silent.

"Deceit?" The demon ignored him. "Are you okay?"

Stupid question, he guessed. What could hurt the demon? A cross?

After a few more minutes of silence, Thomas grabbed a crayon and a piece of paper, then tossed both down the stairs. Maybe Deceit could write something to him.

* * *

When Thomas came back later, as he'd hoped, there was a note at the top of the stairs. On it, scribbled so heavily that the crayon must have broken, was three words;

_**I** _

**_AM_ **

**_SORRY_ **


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit is doing something that I do. When I'm thinking too fast, sometimes I only think one or two words out of every sentence.  
> Ex "I put a bouncy house of Jupiter."  
> "bouncy- Jupiter-"  
> And with ADHD, I sometimes get what I've written Deceit's "dialogue" as; a jumbled up torrent of words that makes sense to me, but would probably confuse the h*ck out of a telepath.  
> (Not that the original sentence made much sense either.)

Thomas stared at the note. "Um... Dude, I'm going to need more than this."

Deceit appeared quite literally out of nowhere, hovering at the top of the stairs with a hopeful expression on his face. He pressed one scraped hand against the invisible wall the salt made, making a small noise in the back of his throat that made him sound like that little of tiny kittens Talyn had once adopted.

"I mean, seriously. You tried to rip out my throat. I can't just let you out of there on an apology," Deceit thought about it for a few seconds, then mimed writing something. "You want to write it out?" Deceit nodded eagerly, making what Thomas could only describe as grabby-hands. "Okay, what happened to the crayon I gave you?"

After a second, Deceit nyoomed back into the basement, returning a few moments later with four separate pieces of crayon.

Oof. "Bud, that was, like, the only crayon that I managed to unpack." Deceit flew in a small circle to show his displeasure with this. "You're the one who broke it, you idiot!" He wrinkled his nose, pulling his lip back to show him slightly bloody teeth. "Well, threatening me is going to get you nowhere fast."

After another displeased circle, something seemed to occur to the demon. He held up on finger in a "wait here" gesture, then flew into the basement. A moment later, Thomas heard water splashing around in the metal basin and splattering on the floor. There was a small, Cousin Itt-esque sound, and Deceit flew back up, looking excited. He gestured down into the basement, feet moving as if he were bouncing up and down on his toes.

Thomas was quiet for a long second. "... Can't you just talk to me?!"

In response, Deceit stuck out a heavily mutilated tongue.

"Okay... Look, dude, I can't go down there because you tried to kill me. I had to spend five dollars on a new flashlight because of you." Deceit looked completely and utterly horrified by this, staring at the flashlight, "Um... roughly thirty-nine cents in money from... how old even are you?"

He got a long, loud huff in response. Deceit thought for a second, then Thomas could practically see the lightbulb turn on. He pressed his palms together, watching Thomas intently, then placed a hand against the invisible wall. A second later, he jerked his head slightly towards it, then stared at Thomas' free hand. On a whim, Thomas nervously pressed his hand against Deceit's, and his vision blurred.

_Farm farm horses screaming hat boy horses mama papa kids kids kids fire screaming dim horses wet cold chair hat me me me me barn horses screaming hat hat Joan hat-_

Thomas yanked away, and the stream of words came to a stop. Deceit squawked in protest, looking extremely indignant.

"What was that?!" Thomas wasn't quite shouting, but he was close. Deceit tapped his forehead. "Huh?... your thoughts?" It was a shot in the dark, but Deceit grinned and nodded. "So like a Vulcan mind-meld? Is that what you're doing?"

"He's not gonna know what that means," Logan stepped in through the wall, adjusting his glasses. "Thomas, I believe you promised us you would stay out of the basement?"

"Well, Logan, he didn't go _in_ the basement," Patton pointed out, descending out of the ceiling. Or maybe ascending, seeing as he was descending but upside down, so that his head just kinda peeked out of the ceiling?

"We're trying to communicate."

Logan huffed, walking in further, "I see. What has he told you so far?"

"Um... something about horses? I think? And I'm pretty sure I heard 'fire' in there somewhere," He glanced back at Deceit for confirmation, and Deceit nodded. "So... I got 'horses' and 'fire' and quite frankly don't like what that's implying."

Deceit's head shot up and he made a loud sound of protest, looking horrified. He shook his head rapidly, then pointed back at his hand.

"Well?" Logan gestured at Deceit, looking faintly amused. "Go on."

This time, Deceit's thoughts were a bit more understandable; _Barn fire horses screaming locks field moon-_

"Okay... so there were horses?" Deceit nodded, "And a barn... was the barn on fire?" Yes, "And the horses were locked in the barn?" Shrug and the so-so hand motion. "Did they get out of the barn?" Nod. "Okay, so the horses were completely fine." Nod.

"It is... truly fascinating to watch the two of you communicate," Logan smirked slightly. "However, I fail to see the relevance of this."

Deceit growled, literally growled, and zoomed back into the basement. Water splashed around a bit, then he shot back up and flicked his hands at Logan. Logan flinched as a few drops of water hit him in the face, and Patton made an "ooh," sound.

"You have got some nerve-" Logan started, taking a few angry steps towards Deceit. Deceit yowled like a jungle cat, his nose wrinkling and lip pulling back over his teeth. "You are lucky we don't exorcise you-"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Thomas steppe between the two. "There will be no exorcisms in this old insane asylum that is a sentence I never thought I would say." He turned to Logan, who had a slight pink colouring the tips of his ears and back of his neck, "Let's just hear the demon out."

"He tried to kill you."

Deceit made a creaking sound, drawing their attention back to him. He shook his head slowly.

"What?" Thomas spun on his heel to fully face Deceit. "What do you mean 'no?'"

His bit his lower lip, then gestured into the basement. Curiosity outweighing caution, Thomas took a few steps forward, only to be stopped by Logan's hand around his upper arm.

"Are you certain?"

"If he kills me, you get to say 'I told you so.'" Thomas joked. When Logan went paler than usual, and impressive feat considering his snowy skin, he backtracked, "I think I'll be okay. Don't worry."

Logan smiled wryly, "I always worry."

"Touche." Thomas followed Deceit down the stairs careful not to break the salt line. Deceit grinned, zooming around Thomas like an excited puppy before flying over to the basin next to the control board, now filled with water. When he was sure Thomas was watching, he dipped two fingers into the water and began drawing something on the tiles.

Words. He was writing something.

Slowly, because he kept glancing up to make sure Thomas was still watching, he scribbled out a long message, then stood up and took a few steps back, practically buzzing with excitement as Thomas stepped forward to read what he had written;

_I didn't try to kill you._

_I didn't kill Logan either._


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Charles killed Logan because I said so.  
> Also, tw for the next chapter; there will be albiesm.

"Really?"

"Jesus Christ!" Thomas swore, stumbling away from Logan, who'd appeared right behind him.

"No, Logan Fernsby," Logan raised an eyebrow, then turned his attention back to the writing. "If you did not kill me, then who did?"

Deceit shrugged, writing some more; _**I don't know his name.**_

"Hm," Logan thought for a second, "Was it the one who lived on the second floor, the room right next to mine, brown hair and eyes, textbook attractive male?"

Deceit nodded, and Logan frowned. "Gods _dammit_! I knew James hated me but _really_?! Pushing me down the stairs?! All over that stupid crossword game!" He was gesturing wildly, too deep into his hatred of this James person to notice when he hit Thomas in the face with one of his sleeves. "I was almost out of here! I had my entire life ahead of me but **no** , apparently my crime of having a superior intelligence was far too much to allow me to live, _Mother Maiden and_ Crone!!"

"Okay-" Thomas but in, interrupting what was surely about to be a very long rant, "So, this James person killed you, not Deceit?"

"Obviously," Logan huffed. 

Wow. Just like that. "So we can let Deceit out of the basement?"

"Not quite," Logan spun on his heel to face Deceit, "Why did you attempt to kill Thomas?"

Deceit put his hand towards them in a "stop" motion, and Logan turned back to Thomas. "Well? Do that hand thing."

"Why can't you? It was your question."

In answer, Logan flapped his stupidly long sleeves, almost taking out Deceit. "It only works through skin-to-skin contact and these were made so that I could not roll them up and use my hands." He sighed and shook his head, muttering, "You pick ONE lock and suddenly you are cursed for eternity with long sleeves."

Impatient with how slowly the clearing of his name was going, Deceit snatched Thomas by the wrist; **_You scared me._**

" _I_ scared _you_??" He laughed nervously, thinking of how Deceit had looked; eyes wide open, mouth open so wide it looked like his jaw had unhinged, and screaming like freaking Satan-

But maybe it was an act or something. Maybe Deceit had just instantly decided that the best course of action was to scare Thomas away. It wasn't like Deceit could run away, being locked in the basement, and he couldn't have hidden either-

Deceit nodded. **_Right_**.

Oh... so the link worked both ways... Thomas immediately regretted comparing Deceit to Satan.

"We'll have to give it some thought," Logan interrupted. Deceit huffed, shoulders slumping. "Don't worry, it should be decided by morning. I just need to speak to the others."

Thomas followed Logan up out of the basement, where Patton was waiting and looked over his shoulder at the hopeful demon... Was Deceit really a demon? Did he have a real name? 

After conversing quietly with Patton for a few moments, Logan turned back to Thomas. "We should see if there's a file on him in the attic. They kept them in the attic."

Oh great. So his haunted house had an attic? "What attic?"

"They closed it off after I jumped off of the roof," Patton informed him. "It's behind the plaster where the stairs to the fourth floor end at the wall. I can show you where."

Even better. A hidden attic in a haunted house... with files on dead people... Thomas was beginning to think he should never have moved to Florida.

"But how will we know which one is him?" Thomas pointed out. "We don't even know the guy's real name."

"Every file includes a picture," Logan said briskly, already starting to the fourth floor, "I'm sure we'll be able to figure it out."

Sure.

* * *

Patton felt along the wall at the top of the stairs, tongue poking out of his lip slightly. After a few minutes, he seemed to find what he was looking for and stepped back, gesturing to a nondescript part of the wall. "There. You've got to press against there to open it."

Oh god... Thomas stepped hesitantly up to the wall, pressing lightly against where Patton had indicated. To his despair, the wall swung open with a dry shriek, revealing a pitch-black staircase.

Secret door... to an abandoned attic... in an old insane asylum... okay then.

Thomas turned on his flashlight and swept it over the stairs, which were ancient wood and covered in cobwebs. Taking a deep breath, he started up them, wincing at how they creaked ominously under his weight.

And he'd thought the basement was bad.

The stairs led up to what looked like an ancient greenhouse, glass windows opaque with dust and crumbling pots littering the floor. Patton kept his gaze down, taking Thomas' hand and leading him through the mess to a door at the other end. This one opened with little resistance, and Thomas, followed by the two ghosts, went inside.

Ancient metal cabinets lined the walls, each inscribed with rusted metal numbers that spelt out dates. Logan hummed. "Let's see, I died in thirty-nine, and Deceit was here before me... hospital opened in 1900, so that's about thirty-nine years to work with. I'd recommend starting in the thirty-five area and starting up, seeing as that was when electroshock was introduced here and it was ended two years after I died... Hm." He yanked open one of the cabinets and thumbed through a few files, biting his bottom lip. "Let's get working."

It was slow work. Logan was adamant they put every file back where it belonged, and they had only the light from Thomas' flashlight to go by.

"Logan," Patton interrupted the silence that had settled over them from his spot sitting on the floor, waving a file, "Is this him?"

Wordlessly, Logan took it and scanned the first page, "Damien Deshu, admitted at age thirteen... died from malfunction of electrical equipment at age fifteen... I believe it is." His face was grave as he continued to read, "Oh my..."


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for use of the r-word, death, electroshock therapy.
> 
> Damien is semi verbal autistic with severe ADHD, in case I didn't make it clear

Name- Damien Deshu  
Date of birth- May seventeenth, 1921  
Age admitted- Thirteen  
Age released- N/A  
Admitted after; the murder of Curtis Lepore, a milkman, and possible arson which resulted in the death of his parents.  
Diagnosis- Mental retardation and refusal to speak.  
Treatment method- Raising temperature through the use of sulfur, electroshock therapy, cold showers  
Died- age fifteen, from the malfunction of electroshock therapy equipment. Buried in grave 39.  
  


-

//Damien Deshu loved horses.

He was sitting up in the hayloft of his families barn, bare feet swinging as he watched a newborn foal fumble through her first steps. His father, Royce, put out a gentle hand to steady her, and she started forward again, slowly growing more certain of herself. Damien climbed down from the loft, nudging his hat-covered head against his father's arm.

"What'd'ya think, Day?" Royce grinned down at his son. "What should we name her?"

"Storm," he wasn't sure where the idea came from, but it seemed to fit the foal perfectly.

"Storm it is, then. C'mon, it's almost dinner time," he put a light hand on Damien's shoulder, leading his easily distracted son back to the house. Just as he'd promised, Damien's mother was setting dinner on the table, smiling when she saw them.

"Boy or girl?"

"Girl. Day named her Storm."

"Storm?" Aya, Damien's mother, bent down a pressed a light kiss to the top of Damien's head. "What a beautiful name." She turned back to Royce, her face falling slightly, "Those boys from town stopped by while you two were in the barn."

Royce made a sour face, "What'd they want this time?"

"Didn't figure out," she shrugged, "I might've set the bull on the little rodents."

"Aya..." Royce shook his head, "Let's not insult rodents, love."

Damien snorted, pressing his face into his hands to keep from bursting out laughing and kicking his feet rapidly. All of the trouble those boys had given him and his family, setting the ancient black bull on them was the least they deserved. Brooklyn wouldn't hurt a fly, really, but he was taller than Royce and muscled like a strongman at the circus Day had once been to. 

Oh, he wished he could've seen the looks on their faces.

"Hurry up and eat, Day. It's almost time for bed." 

-

He woke up so suddenly he almost kicked himself out of bed, heart pounding. Orange light flickered in through his window, casting dancing shadows on the floor-

Screaming. Someone was screaming.

He scrambled to his feet, rushing over to his window.

The barn was on fire.

_The barn was on fire-_

The horses!

Before he quite knew what he was doing, he was out of his room and running across the grass to the blazing barn. He stumbled slightly as the heat hit him, but kept running, unlocking the doors into the horse's pens even as the red-hot metal burned and blistered his hands. The horses thundered into the field, shaking their heads and rearing up onto their hind legs.

Midnight, Storm, Apple, Dove- all twelve were in the field.

So why could he still hear screaming?

He turned back to the barn, eyes widening, mind rejecting the conclusion he kept coming to. "Mama? Papa?"

"Damien!" 

That came from the hayloft-

No no no no no _no_ -

"Mama!!" He tried running into the barn, but it was too hot- "Mama!!"

"Stay out of the barn!" His father ordered, his voice also coming from the hayloft, "Day, _stay out of the barn_!"

He shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously but obeyed Royce. But what could he do? It was too far to run to town for help and no one would help him anyway- 

There was a loud **CRASH** , and Damien froze in horror-

The roof of the barn collapsed, sending a huge fireball into the sky-

And no matter how loudly he screamed or called their names, his mom and dad never answered him.

-

The milkman found him the next day, shivering by the smouldering remains with his head in his hands. Nervously, he nudged Damien with the tip of his shoe, "Hey, kid?"

Day stayed silent, tears starting to run down his pale face again.

"Kid? What happened?"

He pulled angrily at his hair, then forced out, "Don't. Know."

"What do you mean you don't know?!" The milkman snapped, pushing Damien with his foot, hard. Damien snarled, baring his teeth. He wanted to be left alone, couldn't this fool see that?! The people of the town didn't like him, and he didn't like them either! They turned away when he was being chased by that stupid gang of boys from the school, why couldn't they just turn away now?! That was all they were good for!

"I'm talking to you, freak!" That time he sent a full-on kick, nailing Damien in the side and knocking him down.

And Damien _snapped_.

He didn't quite remember what happened after that. He remembered screaming, a lot of screaming, and then two men from town pulling him off of the bloodied mess that was the milkman, throwing him into a truck with padded walls while Damien screamed and howled like a demon, beyond words-

Then the asylum.

Two more men, these two that he didn't realize, grabbed him again and carried him inside, dragging him, kicking and screaming, up the stairs and throwing him into some kind of pitiful bedroom and slamming the door. No matter how much he screamed or beat against the door, they didn't open it until the next day.

A doctor in a clean white coat walked in, spectacles perched low on his this nose.

Damien hated him. He hated the milkman, he hated the townspeople, he hated this place, and he hated that stupid pretentious doctor in his stupid pretentious white coat and his stupid pretentious little rectangle glasses-

He just wanted to go home.

"So, this is the new arrival?" Damien wrinkled his nose. Even the doctor's _voice_ was pretentious. "Doesn't really look like a murderer, does he? But such is the case of this sort, I suppose." He stared down his long nose at Damien, looking as if Damien were a crippled racehorse and he the bearer of a fine, pearl-handled pistol. Tears pricked the backs of his eyes and he turned his face away, biting his lips together. The doctor examined him for a few moments more, wrote something on a notebook, then left.

A few hours later, the two men came back and grabbed him again. Begrudgingly he walked with them, not in the mood to be carried. They led his down the hall to a tiled room, then made him stand near a metal pipe protruding from the ceiling. He stared up at it, frowning. What was it?

His question was, unfortunately, answered by icy water pouring right into his face. He tried to scramble away, but one of the men forced him to stay still under the torrent of freezing water until he was shivering and the tips of his fingers turned blue. 

And that was only the beginning of a very, very long two years.

-

Damien barely reacted when the nurse started tying him to the chair, not even wincing when she tied the strap over his stomach too tight. Once she was done with that, she went over to the console, grabbed the headset, and placed it carefully so that the wet sponges were resting on Damien's temples. He closed his eyes as she went back over to the board, gripping the wooden armrests as tightly as he could, heart racing-

He bit his tongue for the millionth time as electricity coursed through his body, searing agony lighting up every muscle, every vein- he screamed, thrashing against the restraints, and the nurse turned the machine off so that he collapsed back into the chair, breathing heavily.

"Hm... Turn up the voltage."

The nurse nodded, turning one of the dials and glancing at Damien for a moment before turning the machine on again. His head slammed jarringly back against the wood of the chair, leather straps creaking in protest as he struggled, thrashing-

And it didn't stop.

He could vaguely hear her shouting something as the pain began to get worse, as darkness began to close in on his vision-

Then, there was nothing.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. He tested his limbs and, to his surprise, there was no pain, he could move freely. He stood up, looking at the nurse. She and the doctor were by the board, her looking horrified and hi with his stupid calm expression.

"Oh God..." She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking, "Oh God oh God oh _God_ -"

"Call for a new machine and have the undertaker bury the body," The doctor ordered. "We can't afford any delays."

Body? What body?

He glanced back at the chair, and his heart dropped.

In the chair, limp as a ragdoll, was _him_.

-

Recently, Damien had taken up an interest in a new patient; a bespectacled man by the name of Logan. Not having much to do as the only spirit in the hospital, he normally followed Logan around. He'd been the one to 'whisper' the idea of picking the lock to escape, but that had unfortunately caused Logan more troubles than it had solved. Currently, he was following Logan down to the parlour, where he was probably going to stare at one of the books. He read too fast for Damien to keep up, but Day still tried.

Logan started down the stairs, humming quietly.

Suddenly, someone shoved Logan from behind. Damien spun around just in time to see another patient duck into a room. He tried to grab Logan before the man could fall, but Logan's hand slipped through his and he tumbled down the stairs, landing at the bottom with a sickening _crack_.

And didn't move.

Slowly, Logan's spirit rose, flickering for a few moments before seeming to solidify. His eyes widened and he spun to face Damien, who still stood at the top of the stairs.

"You _pushed_ me." _No, I didn't- It wasn't me-_ "You _killed_ me!" Logan took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. "... Why?... Just. Tell. Me. Why."

_I didn't kill you. I would never kill anyone-_

"Speak, damn you!" Logan stomped up the stairs, oblivious to the small crowd forming around his body. "Tell me why!!"

Damien shook his head, unsure what he would say even if he could speak.

"NO?! What do you mean, 'no?!'" Logan was shouting now, "You've killed me and can't even give an explanation?! What is wrong with you?!"

Damien moved suddenly, shoving Logan away from him and running past, down to the safety of his basement, to his corner...

Almost far enough that he couldn't hear Logan still shouting at him.

He curled up in a ball, trembling so hard he was almost convulsing. Everything he enjoyed always got ruined... it was selfish of him to have this little almost-friendship with Logan... he'd cursed Logan, he was sure, cursed him merely by staying around him so much. Cursed him by trying to help...

Maybe he should stop trying to help, seeing as all he caused was harm... maybe he should just over in the background and watch...

-

He watched the depressed man jump from the top of the hospital...

-

He watched as the man who hallucinated slipped on the tile floor and slammed his head off of the sink...

-

He watched as the hallucinating man's brother died of a blood infection...

-

He watched the self-harming man run away into the woods, never to return...

-

He hovered in the background, and just watched.//


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for one swear, Remus-typical nsfw comment, and rushed writing.

"Gods of hell..."

It summed the file up pretty well; force-feeding him sulfur, binding his hands together, isolation... had this really all been considered "treatment?"

Patton drew in a shaky breath. "Unless anyone has any objections, I'm gonna go let Deceit- Damien- out of the basement."

Before he could leave, however, Logan grabbed his arm. "As much as I would love to, we're going to have to ask him about these accusations made against him."

"You don't really think he killed his parents, do you?"

Logan sighed, snapping the file shut. "I do not know. I want to believe he didn't, however, I'm afraid experience speaks louder. I'm not saying I believe he did-" Logan raised his voice slightly, cutting off the beginning of whatever Patton was about to say, "I'm just saying we can't afford to not be cautious."

After a few moments, Patton nodded slowly, putting the file back into place. Thomas and Logan followed him back through the greenhouse and down the stairs.

"Hey there." All three flinched as Virgil appeared at the bottom of the stairs, Roman and Remus behind him. "Strange place for a party."

"Strange party for a threesome," Remus added helpfully. Virgil blinked a few times, then shook his head rapidly.

"Jesus fucking Christ- thank you, Remus, for that mental picture permanently burned into my eyelids-" ("You're welcome-") "What are you guys doing? What's up there?"

Patton, still blushing from Remus' comment, took a small step forward, "Guys... we need to talk."

"Uh-oh..." Roman whispered, glancing between Virgil and Patton. Nothing good ever came of "we need to talk."

"It's about Deceit," Logan interjected, drawing everyone's attention to him. "We've uncovered some startling information that we believe you should know. May we please exit the stairwell? I fear these stairs are unstable."

* * *

Virgil was the first to react to the news, sinking so low in his chair that he was almost parallel to the floor and swearing, covering his face with his hands.

"So... you mean he's..." Roman paused for a long moment, choosing his words, "He's not a demon? He's a regular spirit?"

"That is correct."

"But..." Remus' wild gaze shifted from Thomas to Patton to Logan, "He killed you!"

"No..." Logan sat down heavily, shoulders slumping, "he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time... and because of his inability to speak, he was unable to defend himself."

Roman thought about it for a quick moment, then shot to his feet, "Then we must release him from the basement."

"Not quite-" Patton interjected, stepping into Roman's path before he could get far, "There's still some questionable stuff in his file that we need to talk to him about before letting him out."

Rising to his feet, gaze still trained on the floor, Logan nodded, "The file accused him of three murders, two of them being his parents in a fire."

"Um..." Roman raised his hand slightly, "This may be some cross-channel thing in my mind, but I'm fairly certain you don't ask people about the death of their parents? I might be wrong, though."

After a moment, Logan shrugged, "I wouldn't know. My only sources are fiction... look, we just have to. He wishes to be released from the basement, and this, unfortunately, is what must happen for that to happen."

"Ugh..." Virgil groaned, getting to his feet. "Fine. Let's get this over with and release murder spagurder."

* * *

Damien's face brightened when he saw the six of them coming down the stairs, and he stood hopefully, looking between all of them.

"Damien, we've looked into your file... I'm afraid there's no way to sugarcoat it, so I'll just ask." Logan took a deep breath, "Were you behind the fire that resulted in the death of your parents?"

Almost instantly, Damien's face fell and his shoulders slumped. He sat down, putting his head in his hands. Logan seemed to remember something, then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and offered it to Damien. "I found this in your file. Do you want it?"

Damien stared at the paper, the burst into tears, snatching it from Logan and holding it to his chest.

"There's something else you should have," Logan sat across from Damien, "Your mother... she wrote you a letter. It's in your drawer in the luggage room. On the front of the envelope, it says, "To my Day, From Mama and Papa." It's in the same drawer as your black hat... If you want, I can take you to it." He reached over, gently brushing a tear from Day's face. "But if I do, you must promise to tell me why you killed Curtis Lepore."

Damien nodded and Logan helped him to his feet, leading him out of the basement and ignoring the questioning looks from the others. He gently nudged a hole in the salt line, and, for the first time in almost a century, Damien left the basement.


	9. 9

Logan led the group up the stairs, to the fourth floor, then to a little room back by the bathroom that Thomas hadn't gone into yet. Suitcases, faded from the years, lined one wall, and metal filing cabinets lined the other. Logan went over to one cabinet tucked into the back corner, then wrestled the middle drawer open. Slowly, carefully, he pulled out a black piece of knitted cloth. "I believe this belongs to you."

Damien took it slowly, running his thumbs over it before unfolding it and pulling it over his sloppily-cut hair. It was a hat, Thomas realized, the kind Joan wore. Hadn't Damien mentioned something about a hat?

"And this is the letter," Logan smiled gently, handing Damien an envelope.

Slowly, carefully, Damien ran a finger under the flap, careful to not rip it and setting it gently on top of the filing cabinet. He unfolded the letter inside slowly, then looked up to Logan, tears gathering in his eyes.

"Can you read it?" When Damien shook his head, Logan smiled gently, "Would you like me to read it to you?"

Damien nodded and Logan sat down, patting the ground next to him and letting the younger (or older, depending on how you look at it) get settled before starting; "My dearest Day..."

_//My dearest Day,_

_In the event that something has happened to me and your father, I want you to have this. There are many things you do not know what you need to, and I'm afraid something horrible is about to happen. Either way, first and foremost, I want you to always remember; there is nothing wrong with you. You are my sweet, quiet, beautiful little boy, and nothing they can say will ever change that. Your father and I love you very much, and that can't be changed either._

_As I'm sure you've noticed by now, you're not quite like other people your age. Your aunt was the same way, your grandmother called it "touched by God." Whatever it is, others will fear and mistrust you because of it. There is nothing that can be done about this, unfortunately, but your uncle has a few things set up for you in case something happens. We've left in our will that you're to go to a boys home in a nearby city until you're eighteen, after which the farm will be transferred to your name. And, just in case, we've hidden away something special for you. Remember the hill you and your father slid down on the baking sheets after it rained? Do you remember the old tree at the base? There is something hidden there for you, where the little yellow flowers used to grow._

_Remember this, my Day; we will always love you. You are kind, thoughtful, and empathetic. You have more love in your pinkie finger than those people in the town have in their entire bodies. You are artistic, quiet, and you can handle horses like no one else in this world. Never once have you failed to make your father and I smile. And I am telling you, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that we love you wholly and unconditionally._

_We love you now and forever,_

_Mama and Papa.//_

There was a long, long silence after Logan finished. Thomas felt like his head was spinning. His thoughts were running in circles too quickly to be anything near coherent, trying to process what he had just heard.

"Guys, I might be wrong," Roman started, eyes darting around the room, "But... that... that might mean that whatever they left for Damien... is still there."

All eyes snapped to him, Logan rising slowly. "Explain."

"Well, those clues are something only he could follow, so even if someone else did read the letter they wouldn't have been able to figure it out. Unless someone's happened across it, it should still be where they left it. Damien-" Day looked up from where he was still sitting on the floor, tears brimming in his dark eyes, "do you know the place the letter refers to?"

Damien tilted his head slightly, seeming to think about it for a few moments, then nodded.

"Can you lead Thomas to it?"

He nodded again, rising to his feet slowly, shoulders squaring with determination.

Roman grinned, emerald eyes sparkling, "Then what are we waiting for?"

* * *

"You're kidding me."

Logan poked his head up from the back seat, looking at Thomas, "What appears to be the problem?"

"This... this is Valerie's house..." Thomas glanced at the address again, then again to make sure he was right. "Oh my God, this is Valerie's house."

"Who's Valerie?" Virgil called from the very back.

"She's one of my friends- Damien, are you sure?" Damien nodded. "Oh God... she's gonna think I'm insane."

"I sincerely doubt that, Thomas."

"What am I supposed to tell her? I followed the instructions written by the long-deceased -previous owners of this property through the help of their son, who died in a mental hospital and is now a ghost who is sitting in the passenger seat of my car?! Tell me that doesn't sound insane!"

Logan thought it over for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose you are correct. What should we do?"

"... I'm gonna wing it," Thomas decided, getting out of the car to do something he most definitely should not wing.

"No," Virgil called uncaringly, "Wait. Stop."

"You're. Not. Helping," Logan growled, going after Thomas. He flew after Thomas, hovering beside him as he walked up to the door. "Thomas, I really must advise against this course of action-"

Thomas ignored him, knocking on the door. After a few moments, it swung open. Valerie smiled, "Hey Thomas, what's up?"

"Um..." This was what happened when you winged things that should not be wang, "This is going to sound insane, but there's something buried on your property. I think it may be something of monetary value."

She blinked, "Wait, _what_? How would you know?"

"Because... and I swear, I'm not crazy, but I found a letter from people who owned it a long time ago. They left clues for their son to find it, but he was locked up before he could."

"Soooo... how do you know where it is? I mean, how did these clues even lead you here, much less to where the actual thing is?"

"I may have... spoken to the son."

There was a long pause before Valerie, sounding incredulous, asked, "What? Like, through an Ouija Board or something?"

"No... you know the house I'm planning on converting into a children's home? Well, that's the facility that they sent the son to. He died there, so-"

"So you talked to his ghost." Valerie nodded as if this was a completely normal thing. "Thomas... what are you on?"

Thomas faltered for a moment, "I swear, I'm not high or crazy or anything! Look, I know this is hard to believe but... Logan, help me out here."

Personally, Logan was tempted to let Thomas try and dig himself out of the hole he was in, but he supposed he had to help. He grabbed Thomas' car keys, tossing them from hand to hand. Valerie watched, wide-eyed, as he tossed them into the air a few more times, the returned them to Thomas. She looked from Thomas, to where the invisible Logan stood, and back to Thomas. "What... was... that?!"

Thomas smiled nervously. "That was Logan Fernsby. A ghost."

Poor Valerie looked like she was going to faint. "That's... the ghost who told you about the treasure?"

"No, the ghost who told me about the buried thing is waiting in the car. Logan's a different ghost."

"Ask her if she's okay," Logan urged, worried by how pale Valerie was getting.

"Hey Val, you okay?" 

Valerie took several deep breaths, shook her head rapidly, then nodded. "I'm okay... I'm okay... one more question."

"Yeah?"

"Why is there a kid in your car?"

Wait, what?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short.  
> It's really going down now.

"W... What do you mean?"

Valerie took another deep breath, gesturing to Thomas' car. "The kid in the passenger seat. With the black hat."

"Mother, Maiden, and Crone..." Logan mused, "This is interesting. How can she see Damien but not the rest of us?"

"You- You can see him?"

"... Yeah?"

"You can see him, but none of the others?"

She glanced back at the car again. "All I see is that one kid."

Thomas glanced over at Logan, who looked equally confused. "Val... that kid is a ghost, too. He's the one who led me here."

To her credit, she was taking this ghost thing remarkably well. "But... why can I see him and not the other one?"

"Thomas-" Logan interjected, eyes sparkling with excitement, "Perhaps Damien's spirit is tied to this property as well as the hospital. And she, as the property owner, can see him but not the rest of us because he is the only one tied to the property."

"Logan thinks it might be that Damien is tied to this property, so you can see him. They're all tied to the property I bought, so I can see all of them."

"Wait- The kid's name is Damien?" Her eyes widened, "He wouldn't happen to be Damien Deshu, would he?"

Okay... this conversation was getting weirder and weirder. "Yeah... how'd you know that?"

"Oh... my... God... Guys, get him and come upstairs, right now. The last door on the left-" SHe bolted up the stairs and Logan flew after her, following her up to a dark bedroom. A thin, whispy on woman sat in a rocking chair, looking out the window. A man sat in a nearby desk chair, and a woman was on the desk. All three looked over at Valerie when she ran in, and the younger man and womans eyes went to Logan. "Kate- you know that kid you're always telling me about? The one who went missing in the thirties?"

"Yes... Damien, his name was," The woman tilted her head slowly to the side. "Who's that with you, Val? In the doorway."

Valerie glanced over her shoulder, straight through Logan. The man walked over to the elderly Kate. "He's another spirit. Valerie can't see him."

"Ah- Anyway, what about Damien?"

"Kate, he's here." The man and the woman stared at each other.

"Kate, what does she mean?" The man asked. "Ask her what she means. Is our Day alive? Has he come home at last?"

Kate nodded, "Royce wants to know what you mean."

Valerie took a long moment, choosing her words, "He's a ghost, Kate."

"Oh, God..." The woman on the desk whispered, burying her face in her hands.

"Calm down, now, Aya. He's returned here, that's all that matters. Where is he?"

Suddenly, the pieces clicked. Aya and Royce- Damien's parents. The ones who died on the property. But if they were tied to it, why couldn't Valerie see them? Why did they have to communicate through Kate? And why could Kate see him?

Logan drifted over to the woman, trying to get a good look at her. Her eyes seemed to stare right through him, and he realized then something else-

She couldn't see him. She was blind.

"Hello there," Kate said, smiling, "Aren't you a curious one. What's your name?"

It took a moment for Logan to remember the English language through the shock. "I- I'm Logan."

"Nice to meet you. What are you doing here?"

What on earth was going on- 

"Where is he?" Aya asked. "Where's Day?"

Logan turned to her, "He should be coming. Thomas went to retrieve him."

Speak of the devil- the door pushed open slowly and Thomas and Damien, followed by the others. Damien glanced around the room, then froze, eyes widening, as he noticed his parents.

" _DAMIEN!!_ "

He ran into Royce's waiting arms and was lifted off of the floor into a tight hug. Aya wrapped her arms around both of them. Kate got up out of her chair slowly, walking carefully over to Thomas. "Come on, let's give them some time." Thomas, having no idea what was going on, nodded and followed her out into the hall, Valerie and Logan following soon after.

* * *

"What's going on?" Thomas asked.

Kate smiled wryly. "After Aya and Royce died, they stayed behind to look after their baby boy. But, because he vanished, they've been stuck in the plane between, unable to look for him with no place to start. I spent most of my life looking for him, but I never found out what happened to him. Thank you, young man, for bringing him back where he belongs. As for the box, yes, it's still there, buried by that old tree... I think that should be your reward, for laying those poor souls to rest," she shook Thomas' hand. "I'll lead you to it. And afterwards, I think that boy should be buried with his parents- Tell me, what did happen to him?"

"Um..." What was even happening right now- "Well, he got sent to a nearby mental hospital. He died there when electroshock therapy equipment malfunctioned."

She sighed, "I was afraid something like that had happened. Unfortunately, autism wasn't treated nicely in his time. Our aunt only narrowly avoided the same fate."

"Wait-" Virgil interrupted, "You're related to him?"

Thomas was about to repeat the question when Kate nodded. "Yes, we're cousins on his father's side. I'm the daughter of his uncle Emmett, who set the money aside for him to own the farm."

"You can hear us?" Remus blurted.

"Yes, young man. Now, time is running short. Come, follow me," she ordered, walking past the stunned Thomas and very confused Valerie and down the stairs.

Thomas and Valerie glanced at each other, then followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Valerie is distantly related to Damien, yes. She can see him because his spirit is connected to the property. Aya and Royce's spirits are connected to where the barn was. Because Kate owns the part of the property where the barn was, only she can sense Aya and Royce. Kate can sense the others because she's a medium. Thomas can not see Aya and Royce.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I posted the last chapter at the wrong time and it threw off my groove.

Thomas had seen his fair share of creepy woods, but the ones Kate was leading the small party through had to be the creepiest. Very Blaire Witch Project vibes. 10/10 would not recommend. Maybe if he kept making jokes about it he'd stop being creeped out.

... Nope, not working.

"Here," Kate called, kneeling by an evil-looking tree and clearing some leaves away from the base. She grabbed something- a ring, but it was attached to the ground, and turned back to them. "Someone pull on this."

Valerie nodded, bending down, grabbing the ring, and pulling. It didn't budge.

"Pull harder," Kate ordered, "As hard as you can."

She pulled again, and a bit of the ground budged. Roman looked like he was about to try and help, but she planted her feet and yanked as hard as she could. A chunk of the ground flew out, spraying everyone with dirt and old leaves, revealing a hole in the ground.

Wow. Okay.

"Someone grab the trunk."

Roman floated over and, at Kate's instruction, disappeared down the dark hole. A few moments later, he floated back up, this time carrying a huge steamer trunk. He set it heavily on the ground, and Thomas stared at it.

When had his life become a movie?

"Let's take it back to the house," Kate got to her feet, "I feel like Damien deserves to see this too."

* * *

The table buckled as Roman and Remus set the trunk on it. Roman waited until everyone had gathered around before flipping the catches. He struggled a bit with the heavy lid, but eventually managed to force the old trunk open.

What was inside made everyone go dead. Silent.

It was gold, like, a ton of gold, with a few really expensive-looking gems scattered throughout. Everyone stared, wide-eyed, then turned to either kate or Aya and Royce. Damien picked up a piece almost as big as Thomas' fist.

"California Gold Rush, 1848," Royce explained. Wow. Okay. Thomas' life had officially become fiction. There was no way this was real. He was going to wake up back at the hospital, think "whoa, that was weird," then go on with his life. There was actually no freaking way-

"Now there's just the matter of what to do with it," Kate said, grabbing a piece. 

It was a good question- what _were_ they going to do with it? How could they explain suddenly having thousands of dollars worth of gold and jewels? 

"I think it should be split," Aya said. "Half to Val, half to Thomas."

"My thoughts exactly." Kate tilted her head towards Tomas. "Young man, you have done many a great service today. You'll get half of this with which you can do whatever you wish. Valerie, you'll get the other half."

Patton smiled. "Now you'll be able to do whatever you want with the hospital."

Thomas was reeling even worse than when he'd first met the ghosts. But if this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up. "Oh, wow... um... thanks?"

Suddenly, Damien shot at Thomas, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you," Royce said, putting a hand on Thomas' shoulder and smiling. "We'll never forget you."

Something was... different. When Damien pulled out of the hug, the burns on his head were just... gone. His hair had grown out a bit, and his eyes were no longer bloodshot.

"Thank you," Damien whispered. He walked over to his parents and took their hands. Then, with one last glance back, the three vanished.

Wait, what?

"What... just... happened?" Thomas looked over at Kate. She smiled.

"They've moved on to the next world. Their business here is done, they've been reunited."

"Thomas..." Thomas turned to the others, and his heart stopped. They were flickering, starting to fade around the edges.

"Of course..." Logan whispered, staring at his fading hand. "Damien's pain must have acted as an anchor... but now that he's moved on..."

So that was it. They weren't anchored to the mortal world anymore.

"That's right," Kate said, putting a hand on Thomas' shoulder. "It time for all of you to move on. To say your last goodbyes."

Logan took a step towards Thomas. "Tell me one thing, Thomas, before you go. What are you planning to do with that old hospital?"

"I've..." He took a deep breath, "I've been thinking about turning it into a group home. For kids."

"A wise endeavour." Logan smiled, shoulders relaxing. "We will meet again, Thomas. I'm sure of it." And then, he faded away.

"I'll miss you," Patton said, hugging Thomas tightly. "You're a good person. And have some cookies," he giggled, "You've earned them.

Once Patton faded, Roman and Remus stepped up. "Thomas, can you do us a favour?"

"Anything."

Roman held out a piece of paper. "Our mother, Rosalie Arthur... she's still alive. She believes in ghosts and that such, so can you just... contact her? Tell her that Roman and Remus love her?"

He took the paper and nodded, "Of course."

"Thank you, Thomas."

Then, they were gone too, leaving only Virgil. He rubbed his arm. "Thomas, I know this is a lot to ask, but my body... it's still in the woods. It's in a cave about a mile out. Can you see if you can find it? And maybe return it to my family? Their names are in my file."

"Of course, Virgil."

"That's all I can ask." He pulled Thomas into a tight hug, then stepped back... and disappeared.

Thomas stared at the spot where the ghosts had been, trying to comprehend what had just happened. The ghosts had moved on. All of them. He knew he should feel happy for them, but it kind of... hurt. He was going to miss them.

"Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Valerie exclaimed, making both Thomas and Kate laugh.

 _At least they're okay,_ Thomas thought, _at least they're happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I've made myself cry.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six Years Later

The old hospital had really done a full one-eighty. Sun shone brightly down on the lush greens lawns and flower beds that burst with colour, and birds, which had once never dared approach, now sung brightly in the trees. A handful of children played outside, enjoying the sun and swimming in the crystal-clear lake.

Thomas stepped outside, smiling as he watched a car drive up. The children gathered by the door, watching as the social worker got out of her car and opened the back door. A small boy slid out, crossing his thin arms over his chest and staring at them with huge brown eyes.

"He's all yours." The woman said brightly, handing the boys bag to Thomas.

"Thank you," He smiled down at the boy, who just regarded him solemnly. "Hey there."

"Hello, Mister Sanders," the boy whispered, worrying his thumb over his lower lip. "I am Logan... have we met before?"

"... Not that I know of."

Logan shrugged. "Then it is unimportant."

Thomas smiled. The boy kind of reminded him of Logan Fernsby, with his solemn eyes and robotic tone. "Well, come on, I'll introduce you to the other children, then you can pick a room."

Nodding, Logan turned to the crowd of curious children. "Greetings. My name is Logan Apiston, and I'll be joining you here."

"Wanna see the bees nest?" Toby asked, grinning. Logan nodded and was instantly grabbed by the wrist and pulled away, shortly followed by the others.

Thomas smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know you guys can, like, request fics from me? I haven't had any ideas lately so if you like my writing, you can request. I just can't do unsympathetic Deceit.


End file.
